Slide
by liseli
Summary: .:no slash:.How would Harry's life be different if he hadn't met Ron on the train? Well, for one, he would be in Slytherin, but he's not exactly a house favorite. This is not your average TheBoyWhoLivedOnTheOtherSide story, I promise...


Disclaimer: I never have, nor ever will, own Harry Potter.

A/N This story picks up in chapter six, "The Journey from Platform 9 ¾" of book one. Every thing before this chapter is the same in this story as in canon. A lot of this chapter is very similar to book one as well, but I had to set everything up here. The rest of this should be very different. I know, I know—I haven't updated this in two years, but I'm back with a vengeance! An absence like that won't happen again, I promise because, this time, I've got a functioning plotline! Mwahahaha! This chapter's been edited for grammar and flow and I added a bit more to the end. Please enjoy and tell me what you think!

Arrival 

The Dursleys dropped Harry off in the parking lot of King's Cross train station at 10:15 that morning, and by the time he had lugged his heavy trunk from the car to the front doors, it was thirty to eleven. He quickly (though with much difficulty) loaded his trunk onto one of the trolleys stacked next to the front entrance and made his way toward the platforms. After being elbowed, jabbed, and pushed halfway through the station, Harry finally reached platform 9.

"Good, it shouldn't be much further." He thought with a glance at his watch, and began to push on. But then he stopped. He could see platform 10 from platform 9, shouldn't platform 9 ¾ be somewhere in between? Beginning to panic, Harry turned around—not with out bumping into people and earning a disgruntled hoot from Hedwig—thinking that maybe he had passed it up already.

Just when he reached platform 9 again and began to wonder once more if he was going crazy—if Hagrid and the letters and Diagon Alley had all been a dream—he heard the word "Hogwarts." It came from a woman standing next to two red haired children about three meters away. He watched them intently for a few moments and had just worked up the nerve to go ask them where the train was, when they disappeared. One minute they were leaning against the large brick column that signified platform 9, and then they were gone!

"Well, they _must_ be wizards then." He thought as he tried to keep his wits about him. Deciding that he had nothing to lose, he pushed his trolley up to the platform, set Hedwig's cage on the ground, opened his trunk, and took out his wand. Remembering what Hagrid did to the wall at Diagon Alley, he began to tap the wall with his wand.

After he had tapped the wall in different patterns for five minutes or so and received many strange looks and grunts of disapproval, he put Hedwig back on the trolley, sank to the ground and leaned back onto the column.

Only his back never hit the bricks; instead he fell right through, head colliding painfully with the pavement. Startled, he pulled his feet up to his chest and jerked the hand that held the trolley closer to him.

Then, revelation struck. This was platform 9 ¾. He stood up. There was some kind of spell or something put on the column to conceal it! He looked around at all of the people and things around him. It looked almost exactly like Diagon Alley, except that in the place of shops and booths, there was a gleaming red steam engine with students boarding onto it and waving goodbye to their families.

Shaking out of his bewilderment, Harry pushed his cart hurriedly towards the end of the train, looking for an empty compartment through the windows. He finally found one at the very end of the train, and began to heave his trunk in. After ten minutes of lugging and pushing he finally got the trunk on, and just in time; the train was pulling off.

The train ride was uneventful and would have been downright boring if it weren't for Harry's anxiety and the spectacular views passing by. Around noon an elderly lady with a trolley full of sweets came to his compartment. Having not eaten breakfast, he bought one of everything. He flipped through his books for a while and had just put _Standard Book of Spells, Grade One_ up when a chubby, frightened looking boy came in searching for his toad. Harry hadn't seen it, so the boy quickly left with a small moan of worry, and Harry was left alone for the rest of the journey.

Several hours later it had grown dark and he decided that he should probably put his robes on. As he did so, the realization that he was going to be at Hogwarts soon hit him with a wave of worry. What if he really wasn't a wizard? What would they do? Would he have to go back and face the Dursleys?

He didn't have too long to agonize though, for very soon the train slowed to a halt at the Hogwarts platform.

Harry made his way silently onto the platform with the rest of the students. He shivered in the cold night air. A lamp came bobbing over the heads of the students, and Harry heard a familiar voice:

"Firs' years! Firs' years over here! All right there, Harry?"

Hagrid's big face beamed over the sea of heads.

"C'mon, follow me—any more firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years, follow me!"

Slipping and stumbling they followed Hagrid down what seemed to be a steep, narrow path. The thick forest on either side of the path allowed little light in, enveloping the first years in almost complete darkness. Nobody spoke at all.

"Yeh'll get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," Hagrid called over his shoulder, "jus' round this bend here."

There was a loud "Oooooh!"

The narrow path had opened suddenly onto the edge of a great black lake. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers perched atop it.

"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid called, pointing to a fleet of boats sitting in the water by the shore.

Harry, having been at the back of the train was now at the back of the crowd and was thus one of the last ones to board a boat. Not really knowing anyone, he just sat in the nearest boat to him. Already inside were two girls, one was petite and timid-looking with blond hair, and the other was rather larger with straight brown hair and wore a frown as if in boredom. One last person crammed himself into the small boat a few moments after Harry; a boy with dark hair, average height, and an almost indifferent expression upon his face. Judging by the other three's expressions, it probably wouldn't be the best idea to attempt small talk—not that Harry would be the one to start it anyway.

In a few moments' time, there was a loud call of "FOREWARD!" from the front of the fleet, presumably made by Hagrid, and the boats began to sail themselves across the lake.

There was an awed silence as the first years glided across the lake, broken only by the water lapping against the sides of the boats. As the gigantic school with its twinkling lights drew slowly nearer, Harry's heart began to rise into his throat, arousing the same fears as those that he faced on the train.

Before long they came to a low, ivy-covered tunnel that led to a small underground cove on which they docked their boats. They got out and walked down a passageway, which led them to the lawn right in front of the castle.

They climbed up a large set of steps; their necks craned trying to see more of the castle; up to the enormous oak door. Hagrid knocked heavily, and a stern-looking witch with her hair done into a tight bun opened the door. A few words were exchanged which Harry could not catch, and they were led inside.

They entered a large room with a grand marble staircase leading up to the other floors. They ascended the steps and as they reached the landing, they heard the dull roar of hundreds of people nearby. The witch led them to a small room not far from the chamber in which they heard the voices—most likely those of the rest of the school. After they had crammed themselves into the little hall, the woman shut the door and began to speak.

"Welcome to Hogwarts. I am Professor McGonagall. The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend your free time in your house common room.

"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours.

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting."

Harry began to try to flatten his untamable hair.

"I shall return when we are ready for you. Please wait quietly." With that, Professor McGonagall turned and left. Conversation immediately erupted in the small room, mainly about how they were to be sorted. The red-haired boy, whom Harry had seen disappear into the barrier at the train station, was standing near the front of the room. He said that his brothers told him something about it being a test. Harry's heart once again rose into his throat. A test? Harry had skimmed through his books over the summer but he was by no means ready for a _test._ He had just begun to panic for the third time that day when he suddenly felt as cold as ice. He looked up as several people around him screamed—a herd of translucent ghosts were passing over them.

"New students! About to be sorted, I suppose?" Said a ghost that looked like a fat little monk. "Hope to see you in Hufflepuff, my old house!"

"Move along now. The Sorting Ceremony is about to start." Said Professor McGonagall, who had just re-entered the room. The ghosts nodded to the professor disappeared through the walls. "Now, form a line and follow me."

She led them back to the entrance hall, through a large pair of oak doors, and into the most magnificent room Harry had ever seen. There were five long tables, four placed in columns at which the other students were sitting and the fifth on a platform facing the entrance hall. There were hundreds of floating candles lighting the enormous room and casting an almost blinding glow upon everything. However, the most impressive thing about the room was the ceiling, if there really was a ceiling there at all. The walls were immeasurably high and seemed to blend into the sky, revealing the stars and clouds above.

The first years were lined up in front of the teachers' table and Professor McGonagall brought out a stool on which she placed a dusty, frayed, ancient-looking hat.

"What are we supposed to do with it?" Harry thought nervously. Just then, a hole opened up in the hat like a mouth and began to sing.

It finished its song to loud applause and Professor McGonagall began to speak again.

"When I call your name you will sit on the stool and put on the hat to be sorted."

Harry let out a sigh of relief. This was going to be much easier than expected.

Names were called and they were sorted to their various houses. Some people, like the pale boy from Madam Malkin's shop, were sorted immediately, where as others sat on the stool for minutes before they were sorted. Then, a thought struck Harry. What if he wasn't chosen at all? What if he just sat under the hat until Professor McGonagall took it off his head and sent him home?

"Potter, Harry!" McGonagall called. Suddenly, whispers broke out like wildfires amongst the students, and many stood up to try to get a better look at the famous boy.

Harry sat down and was enveloped in the darkness of the hat.

"Hmmm…" Said the hat into his ear. "Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind either. There's talent, oh my goodness, yes—and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that's interesting….So where shall I put you? Hmmm…"

"Please, anywhere! Just pick someplace!" Harry thought pleadingly after what seemed an eternity of the hat probing his mind.

"Well, let's see then, if you have no preference, Slytherin will help you get along to the greatness you seem so desirous of…yes, SLYTHERIN!"

The last word was shouted to the whole hall and Harry took off the hat, but it was welcomed by no applause. He looked around. Everyone had a confused, almost dumbfounded expression. He turned to Professor McGonagall, who still held the list up but called no name to be sorted. He turned to the teacher's table. Hagrid was shaking his head in disbelief. The greasy-haired wizard next to him furrowed his brow. But the man with the long white hair (whom Harry recognized as Headmaster Dumbledore from one of his chocolate frog cards) looked…disappointed, almost sad. It was as if some high hope of his had just come crashing down.

Harry himself was not overjoyed, either. He wasn't too happy about being in the same house as the snobby boy from Diagon Alley. But why was everyone starring?

After the last name (Zambini, Blaise) had been called and sorted (Slytherin), Professor Dumbledore stood up to speak.

"Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts. I hope you all had a pleasurable summer. I would say more but I feel that your stomachs need a chance to fill themselves. So, let the feast begin."

Harry looked at the doors for someone to appear with food. He had'nt realized how hungry he was.

"Aren't you going to eat?" Grunted the ruddy-haired student across from Harry.

"What?" He asked, but then noticed what the boy meant. His plate, which was empty before, was now nearly overflowing. Surprised but pleased, he began to eat.

"I'm Hector. Hector Curtus." Said the boy almost begrudgingly.

"I'm Harry Potter."

"Yeah. I know. Everyone does." He replied briefly then went back to shoveling potatoes down. Taking for granted that their conversation was at an end Harry began to do the same.

"Everyone thought that you would be a sure Gryffindor, though." He said as he reached for the roast beef.

"Really? Why?" Harry asked as he quickly swallowed his food, anxious not to offend anyone more that he had already inadvertently done.

"Well, I mean you stopped you-know-who, which is a really Gryffindor-ish thing to do." He replied in his low, monotonic voice. "And it caused a lotof…friends of the people at this table to be sent to Azkaban." He replied in his low, monotonic voice.

Harry silently wished that he _was_ in Gryffindor, but he kept this to himself and said instead: "What's Azkaban?"

"It's a prison in the north of the North Sea, guarded by Dementors that suck out all your happiness 'till they drive you mad." Interjected a mangy-looking boy sitting a few seats to the right of Hector. "I should know; my dad was sent there because of_ you_." Harry shifted away from the boy; with his roving yellow eyes he looked a bit mad himself.

"Most everyone in Slytherin has a story like Aden's. You shouldn't expect too warm a welcome."

"How come you're not mad at me then?"

Hector shrugged. "I'm muggle-born. I've got nothing against you. Not at the moment, anyway. Besides, I know how you feel. I wasn't exactly accepted with open arms…. I'm still not, come to think of it." He said idly and jabbed his fork into the roast.

There was silence between them for a while.

"What year are you in?" Harry asked, looking for a conversation topic.

"Third" He replied simply.

"Oh, just curious."

"Ahem," Said Professor Dumbledore standing up. "I have a few routine notices to make for the first years and some of our other students," As he said this, his eyes lingered on a pair of red-headed twins at the Gryffindor table who looked a lot like the boy that Harry followed onto the platform (who's name he discovered was Ronald Weasley in the Sorting Ceremony). "Now that you've all eaten…. The Forbidden Forest is, as the name implies, forbidden. Mr. Filch has also asked me to remind you that magic in the corridors is not allowed. Quidditch tryouts are to be held the second week of term, anyone in second year up interested is invited to contact Mme Hooch. And, most importantly, the third floor corridor is off bounds this year to _all_ students. Anyone not abiding to this rule will suffer dire consequences, not necessarily imposed by the staff. Now, I recommend you all retire to your dormitories; classes begin tomorrow. Would the prefects please escort the first years to their houses? Thank you and goodnight."

"Dumbledore doesn't seem to be his chipper self tonight." Hector remarked in his stodgy voice as they stood up to leave. Harry could think of no response to this, so he simply snorted and joined the other first-year Slytherins following a prefect to their house.

It was a long walk that led them to lower and lower levels of the castle. After a while, Harry noticed that there weren't any windows down here. They must be in the dungeons, he thought.

Suddenly, the prefect they were following stopped in front of a patch of damp stone wall, causing several first years to trip over one another.

"Herpein." The prefect said and a stone door camouflaged into the wall slid open, revealing a large, dark room.

The room had high stone walls and a ceiling with green lamps hanging by chains from it. There were wooden, high-backed chairs and tables spread across the large room and serpents figures everywhere Harry turned.

"The girl's rooms are up the staircase to the left of the fireplace," The prefect said, pointing to an opening in the wall next to an elaborate fireplace. "And the boy's rooms are down the hallway between the pillar of the snake and the green and silver banner."

Harry followed the other first year boys at a distance down the aforementioned hallway. When they entered the room with the words "First Years" engraved on a silver plaque attached to the door, they found all of their things laid out on green four-poster beds. His were on the bed nearest to the door.

"So, the famous Harry Potter is a Slytherin. Wait 'till I tell father... By the way, I'm Draco Malfoy, we've met before." Said the pale boy with a smug smile as he held out his hand.

"Er, nice to meet you." Harry said awkwardly and shook his hand.

"You too, Harry, you too." He said with a wry look then turned to his bed—which was to the left of Harry's—and began to arrange his things.

After a few moments Harry noticed that the two large boys that had sat next to Draco at the feast were still staring dumbly at him. Draco must have noticed too, because he looked up from his trunk and asked them what they were gaping at. They shook their heads in an oafish way then began to unpack as well.

Almost as soon as Harry's head hit the pillow, he fell asleep, exhausted by the day's events. Thinking back, he still did not understand why everyone was so shocked that he was in Slytherin. After all, he _was_ only a baby when he defeated Voldemort….

A/n: I'm not so great at the whole self-motivation thing, so…encourage me to write faster. Next update as soon as I possibly can. Don't be surprised if Icome back to edit this--let me know if you think I should--just don't make me do it before I put up the next chapter. Otherwise I'll never get it up.


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